


Are You Lost?

by tinamachina



Category: Labyrinth (1986), Neverwhere - Neil Gaiman
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-18
Updated: 2014-11-18
Packaged: 2018-02-26 03:32:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2636429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinamachina/pseuds/tinamachina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jareth falls into an unfamiliar pocket of his Labyrinth...or does he?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Are You Lost?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aunt_zelda](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aunt_zelda/gifts).



This was not an oubliette familiar to Jareth.  Something about this room felt very old and smelt vaguely of humans.  It was a mismatch of ancient fresco and decayed brocade.

“Sir, are you lost?”  A young girl asked him. 

“No, I certainly am not!”  Jareth answered indignantly.  He would rather die than admit that he was lost in his own labyrinth…if this was his labyrinth.

“I can help you find a door,” the girl offered.

“I can find it jolly well by myself, thanks,” Jareth searched the painted walls with his gloved hands, searching for a doorknob, a hinge, a crack, something!  The plaster crumbled under his fingertips, and bits of brocade flaked and fell to the floor, but no door could be seen.

“This is my home,” the young lady said.  “Old forgotten things find their way to this place.”

“I am not old, and I am not to be forgotten!”  Jareth slammed his fist into the wall, as an army of unseen critters rattled behind the plaster and wood and old wallpaper.

The girl tapped Jareth on the shoulder, “I can take you to any room you want.  Which room are you searching for?”

“Which room, indeed!”  Jareth sniffed.  It galled him to be pitied upon by a girl seemingly barely out of her middle teens, almost _her_ age.   Which room was Jareth looking for: his throne room, her bedroom?  Maybe she wasn’t in that room anymore.  Maybe her toys were all stored away in some dusty attic.  Maybe her brother overtook that room, covered the walls with flimsy paper images of scantily clad maidens and noisy metal machines.  Maybe there was just no room for him in their memories.

“Take me home,” Jareth, with his head against the wall, extended his arm to the side.

“This is your home,” the girl explained.  “This is the Below, the Underground.  It’s just a place you haven’t found yet.  Come, I show you around.”  The girl took his gloved hand in hers, and led him through the mansion.

“What is your name?”  Jareth asked.

“Door,” the girl replied.  “Welcome home.”


End file.
